There are three tiers in the hipster hierarchy. 

The introductory level allows you to shop at Urban Outfitters and listen to the Postal Service. 

The second level allows you to check Pitchforkmedia.com every day, wear thick-rimmed glasses (with hair swooping underneath), appreciate David Sedaris, engage in competitive music bantering at KCRW sponsored concerts, and shun mainstream media. 

The third (and highest) level is when you reach the plateau of coolness where you begin to group the Level 1 and 2 hipsters as too mainstream and you don’t really get true joy out of anything any more and are therefore able to judge everyone at will.  Typically these kids look like Ethiopians – except they are white, but with the same body fat content, ability to fold into themselves, and ever-present facial expression of “the world fucks me over” – that have been run through a 1984 thrift shop. 

The Fiery Furnaces provide the soundtrack for transitioning from Level 2 to 3.  Because if you don’t like the Furnaces, well then you just don’t get it do you man, and you aren’t really worth my time.